peridance
by Meatshield116
Summary: Internal rebellion on a planet smelling of fish guts, guess who gets the job of cleaning up? Rated "T" for written violance, I do not own warhammer or any of it's affiliates nor do i claim to. I only own the 116th cause I painted it up. First fanfic here


It was raining when the great doors of the lander opened. Years in the future, when the veterans gathered to share stories and memories, it was always said, usually within the first few sentences, that it was raining when they landed on Peridance. The troops, weary from warp travel, drew in a collective breath, and promptly gagged. In its past, Peridance served as the hub for food distribution in its system. Every day for three thousand years, bulk cargo ships from the eight other inhabitable planets, landed in its ports and deposited their loads of fish. Once deposited, the fish, as well as other foodstuffs were trucked off to the many facilities that specialized in gutting, flaying and cooking fish. Three thousand years of accumulating fish guts seeped into every surface, until visitors swore that the very planet it's self reeked of fish.

The troops trudged off the ramp and into the putrid rain, many wishing to escape back into the stale air of the hold once more. They knew why they were there, heretics and recidivists had risen up, civil war raged across the planet's wet and smelly surface. Should Peridance fall, warned many tacticians, then the system was likely to starve within months. The call was put forward, and the luckless 116th was one of the regiments to respond. The light regiment was a counter balance to the heavy mechanized regiments that they had shared transport with. The Ahi 8th and the Reden Heavy 5th, were all destined to other regions of the world.

The interior bay of the chimera already smelled faintly of rotting fish, remarkable seeing that it was on the planet for merely two hours. The dim interior lights flickered as the APC bounced over more debris, the unwanted motion made many of the guardsmen groan. Sergeant Merkles thanked his stars that they were lucky enough to be riding in the covered transport. Many of the other squads were forced to ride in open top trucks, the ones that usually carried the off world fish to the gutting centers. The 116th was fresh from the forested hell of Fortress Europa, a world on the Eastern edge of Imperial space. A charismatic leader appeared, and with help from a tau cadre, succeeded in claiming much of the shrine world. Hundreds of millions died in the ten year conflict before the warlord was killed, and the tau were annihilated.

The barracks were converted from grim, grey brick apartments, dull crimson tiles lay scattered about in the rotting mulch that was called a garden. It was obvious that the structures hadn't been used in years. "Might have to kick out a few squatters." The pdf first sergeant nodded smugly in the building's general direction, the foul smelling rain sheeting off his bright orange poncho.

The man was right, drug addicts had to be chased from the shadows, their small stashes burned lest some of the hive gangers in the regiment got their hands on it. Dead animals and refuse joined the bonfire in the central courtyard. Guardsmen sentenced during transit for light punishment carried out the thankless task. In its heyday the apartments could have fit up to three thousand five person families in its cramped interior. Now the number was only a quarter of that, age, constant humidity and scavengers had all done their parts to humble the ugly structure. To any other regiment, it was hell in a cesspool smelling package, to the 116th, it was a fortress.

The small convoy wound its way down the slick cobblestone street, powering through the smaller craters and avoiding the larger ones when possible. The hatches on the vehicles were closed; too many snipers littered the hot zone to make it economical for tank commanders to enjoy a breeze. An aging Leman Russ patterned tank lead the party, twin stubber sponsons searched the ruins anxiously, as if they were afraid of what was there. Three ugly and battered apcs followed close behind it, with a light armored vehicle hugging the rear, the barrels of the occupant's weapons poked outwards from firing slits. The group rumbled away, on their way to join a probing thrust on the Imperial's dockside flank. The convoy roared past a decaying street carnival, a handful of rotting corpses lay scattered alongside of the toys.

The street returned to normal, empty and dismal, quieter now that the diesel engines had faded from earshot. In an ally two streets down, an autogun chattered away for a few seconds before a single, deep, ominous shot silenced it. One of the bodies in the street shifted, it was only a small movement, and anyone watching would have assumed it was the movements of a scavenger at work. Slowly the right hand inched its way into the chest webbing and returned with it's prize. There was a slight pop as the hand squeezed down on the package, expelling the contents of the wrapper into the corpse's mouth. Another corpse started to move by the wooden horse ride, inching it's way slowly into the shadows cast by the ride's plastic roofing.

Both corpses stopped their movement as a handful of panicking pdf conscripts fled from a warehouse, making for the distant Imperial lines to the north. A single deep crack rolled it's way into the city as a sniper blew a soldier into the road. A few second later another fleeing pdf trooper fell twitching, necking flopping. A few more seconds past, when a body tumbled out of the second floor window of the warehouse accompanied by a lighter retort of a gun. The corpse in the shadows of the child's ride lay down again, hiding the rifle beneath it's dirty clothes. An easy kill, the rebel sniper gave his position away, sticking the barrel of his weapon out the window. The rain started picking up again, from a light mist into a drizzle. The second corpse's hand started making another journey back to the promised land of the pouch.

116th, guards to the beil tan envoy


End file.
